


Don't Fight the Feeling

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: I just want her to ride him like a stallion while he sucks her tits raw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Fight the Feeling

Brock has been half hard in his jeans for the last twenty minutes and Cindy knows it. She’s pushing him back towards the green room, hands pressed against his tailbone, palms digging in the top curve of his ass. Her breath is on his neck, and the heat from it mingles with the fire of his skin. Brock feels itchy, his whole body flushed from how she’s been teasing him from the moment they met the day before. He knows it amuses her, the way he blushes, the apples of his cheeks glowing red. He swings back and forth between humiliation and an almost stupid sort of want.

Cindy shoves him into the room and as she locks the door behind her he realizes that he hasn’t seen any of the usual convention volunteers buzzing around. He scrapes his black and white chucks against the carpet as he comes to the conclusion that she planned this.

She presses her back against the locked door and her full lips curve into a nearly feral smirk.

Yup, she planned this.

He swallows hard and sticks his hands in his pockets to press his erection as subtly as possible.

Her eyes track the movement and she laughs in delight. Cindy has a great laugh, hearty, her head tilting back and her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Brock finds himself laughing too, his softer and more tentative, completely reactionary.

Cindy stops laughing then and strolls over to him like they have all night, like they’re somewhere private and not backstage at a convention with 500 fangirls and Fred Fucking Lehne outside the door. Her lips are only slightly curved now and her eyes are at half mast as she traces her nose against the broad stroke of his cheekbone. Brock realizes he’s holding his breath as she explores his face with hers, slow, erotic brushes of her lips over his temple, her smooth cheek over his lips. She finally brings her mouth down on his and he exhales into it. Her tongue pries the seam of mouth apart until it touches his teeth and then plunges languidly inside. He opens to her and their tongues finally meet, the muscles slicking together in a way that makes wet sounds in the too-quiet room.

She pulls back suddenly and bites her lip, wet with their mingled saliva. “Get on the couch,” she instructs, and it’s the first thing either of them has said since leaving the stage.

He moves to take off his leather jacket and she shakes her head roughly. “No, leave it on.”

Brock’s fingers pause at her command, but he leaves it on and goes to sit on the ugly green couch. She follows slowly, her fingers unbuttoning her white shirt as she walks. She pulls the material off her body and tosses it carelessly to the ground before standing directly in front of him. He spreads his legs involuntarily and she slides into the vee of them.

“Take my panties off,” she whispers, her voice low but it’s without a doubt a command.

Brock is so hard, it hurts. He doesn’t do this, usually, fuck a girl he just met. He knows it’s dumb, that he’s young and hot and could probably have this any day of the week, but his mother raised him as a southern gentleman and instilled in him the sense that a man should always woo his ladies.

Of course at this moment, as he pulls the slip of lace down Cindy’s tanned thighs, he could barely remember his own name, much less anything his mama taught him.

He slips them down and she lifts her feet one by one so he can get the thong over her slouchy boots. The minute the material is free she climbs onto him, straddling his lap and resting her forearms against his still-leather covered shoulders. Her breasts, high in nothing but a pushup bra, are mere inches from his face and he finds himself wanting to lean forward and bury himself. She must sense what he wants because she leans down and starts kissing him instead to take his attention back.

She tastes like spearmint gum and earl gray tea. Brock tilts his head against the back of the couch to get a better angle to suck on her tongue. He clutches her hips through her skirt as their kissing becomes more frantic and she starts rocking against his jean clad pelvis. His dick is dripping hard against the inside of the zipper and it’s almost painful. She must know it, but she’s merciless and keeps on pressing down, her skirt finally riding up so that her bare pussy is against the denim.

Cindy pulls back from the kiss and twists over to lick the seam of his ear. His face is level with his initials written crudely in Sharpie on her shoulder, and it makes him hot and possessive.

“Wanna ride you, want your cock in me,” she whispers roughly in his ear, biting the cord of his neck.

He stares at his initials and pants hard. “Fuck. Yeah, ok, yeah.”

She doesn’t waste any more time as she reaches down between them and starts unzipping his jeans. He tries to help and their hands tangle up as they manage to get them and his boxer briefs down his thighs. She stops him when they get right to the knees though, and he realizes that she is liking the fact that they trap him in one position. He dick bangs flushed and red against his abs and she leans back to admire it.

“Knew you’d be pretty all over,” she murmurs, biting her lip again as she stares hungrily at his cock before putting one hand around it and giving it one hard tug on the upstroke.

Brock’s face is burning with embarrassment, but Cindy is still stroking him and it tampers it down just enough. With her free hand she reaches into the couch cushions and pulls out a condom. His face lights up in surprise and Cindy snickers. If there was any doubt that this was a well organized plan, the hidden condom trick ends it. Brock finds himself in impressed awe.

She rips the wrapper with her teeth and rolls the latex down over him with both hands, squeezing him a bit as she does until he groans. She still has her skirt on but she pulls it up just enough for him to glimpse a tiny strip of pubic hair over an otherwise smooth mound. The glimpse disappears then as she raises herself just enough and then lowers herself down in one stroke onto his cock.

They moan in unison as he bottoms out, and Cindy’s forehead drops forward against his. The breathe together for a moment until she starts swiveling her hips in little circular motions. Brock’s fingers clutch her back and starts pulling at the clasps of her bra. He feels the little metal teeth separate and he pulls the fabric from her body. Her breasts tumble out as gravity pushes them forward against his mouth. Without thinking, he opens his lips and starts laving her nipples with his tongue.

She moaning now, her hands twisted in his hair as he alternates licking the flesh of her breasts and pulling her nipples with his teeth. He pulls back to get his hands on them, his thumbs flicking hard against the increasingly abused flesh. He sees her initials in Sharpie on the back of one of his hands then, a jaunty heart surrounding them. The letters fold and twist as he squeezes her tits, tugging at them and weighing them. She’s bouncing with more force now, her head thrown back, long hair hanging down her naked back.

Brock growls as she squeezes her vaginal muscles around his cock and he goes back to biting her nipples as he uses his hands to grab her ass and grind her down harder onto his lap. She’s tearing at his hair now, strands wrapped so hard around her fingers that they are probably coming out at the roots. The pain is just one more addition to the sensations overwhelming him and he can’t focus on any one of them.

She’s slipping around his cock now, her pussy so wet that he feels like his dick is drowning in the juice. Her skirt is riding up again and she leans forward just enough to start rubbing her clit against both the material and his stomach. She’s pushing him so deep into the couch that his neck feels ready to snap, but he doesn’t stop licking and sucking and grinding and fucking until she cries out and is quaking on top of him.

Her inner walls clench down on him like a vice and he can’t hold back any longer. He comes harder than he ever has in his life as she holds his face in her hands and devours his mouth.

The only sound is their heavy panting for several moments as they come down from their high. A sharp knock on the door disrupts their reverie.

Brock gasps and goes to move but Cindy rolls her eyes and keeps kissing his neck.

"Cindy, leave the kid alone for a second so I can come in. I left my sunglasses on the table!" Fred Lehne’s gruff voice hollers with amusement from behind the door.

“We’re in Birmingham, for fuck’s sake, there's no sun,” Cindy yells back, in between tracing kisses on Brock’s jawline.

Fred’s laughter lingers all the way down the hallway as he departs.

Brock is still as a statue as Cindy leans back. She’s still in his lap, his softening cock still covered in latex and resting against the walls of her vagina. Her breasts are naked and covered in red stripes, bite marks, and the beginnings of purple fingerprints. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is sticking up in every direction.

She looks absolutely fucking beautiful and Brock finds himself beaming.

“So,” she says and pauses, almost shy for the first time. “Want to go get a pint with me?”

Brock starts laughing hysterically and pulls her down for another kiss.


End file.
